


Your smile makes me want to live

by Seisu



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Damian Wayne, Boypussy, Bruce Wayne being the best daddy ever, Caregiver Bruce Wayne, Cute Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Gets a Hug, Damian Wayne Needs Love, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Dd/lb, Father/Son Incest, Hire me DC, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Incest, Little Damian Wayne, Little Space, M/M, Panic Attacks, Praise Kink, Protective Bruce Wayne, Suicidal Thoughts, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Bruce Wayne, and more - Freeform, no beta we die like robin, reference to Hell, yes in that order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28011717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seisu/pseuds/Seisu
Summary: “Do you want Baba instead now?”Damian weighed his option —Baba sounded more appealing right now; He would feel better straight away, and he knew Father wanted to take care of him. He nodded. “Baba.”Instantly, he could feel the tension seeping out of him. Damian was not quite yet in the little space, but he was close.Fath-, no, it’s Baba now. Baba smiled down at him, kissing him on the temple. Damian liked it when Baba kissed him.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Damian Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 102





	Your smile makes me want to live

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bunny:p](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Bunny%3Ap).



> Happy birthday, Bunny <3 We know each other for a really short time, but I'm glad to have a nice moot like you around :3 Thanks for chatting me first -I'm a shy person, and you were a very pleasant surprise. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction and has absolutely no construct upon the hell we call reality. In other words, don't use this as a substitute for sex ed.

_Tick-tock._

Damian did not like clocks, didn’t like its round shape with numbers or its hand, especially the second hand —always moving, never stopping-, absolutely despised the ticking sound. Far too many times, the sound reminded him of bombs and consequences.

_Like failing, like dying._

_Tick-tock._

Why did he have one in his bedroom again?

Ah, yes, time management. As should be expected from the heir to a great mantle.

He buried himself under the alpaca throw blanket —his favourite gift from Father, mostly because he knew how long man agonised over the array of designs and textures—, trying to muffle the outside world.

It did not work.

Frustration filled him up to the brim and Damian was sure something would happen, would knock him over like a glass, spilling its content and _maybe he will shatter-_

He whimpered. His internal clock -he also hated this one, purely because of how cruelly it had been integrated into him- told him it was nearing the time Father should be finishing up with his morning shower and checking up on him soon. Damian did not want to make Father worry needlessly, didn’t want to see his fed-up frown or hear his disappointed sigh. It would be a matter of time before Father realise how pathetic his son really was, how undeserving, how he should have sent him back to the League.

Damian wanted to vomit at the thought.

More than that, he wanted to run away —hide away in somewhere safe, somewhere he could not be confronted by Father on the off-chance he finally saw the light.

It was not possible though; His body felt more like lead than the muscles it was moulded into, his blood weighing impossibly heavy as it toiled throughout his body. So instead, he pulled his pillows under the blanket, positioning them around his head, almost as if he wanted to suffocate himself. Like this, the ticking softened noticeably and apart from his hammering heartbeats, Damian could almost pretend that he ceased to exist.

Almost.

 _Click!_ The sound of his bedroom door opening had Damian tensing up, muscles clenching and relaxing simultaneously in preparation for an attack, his heart pumping blood in anticipation of a confrontation.

He should be showing a demeanour befitting a warrior, should look Father in the eyes, should take his punishment with grace.

Damian did not want that.

He stayed still under the cover. Even with the carpeted floor, Damian could clearly make out the familiar sound of Father’s footsteps, etched into his heart -he was sure even if he were old and decaying, he could still recognise these footsteps. The sound stopped and the mattress dipped slightly as another weight was added to the bed.

Father’s voice was cruelly gentle. “Damian?”

Was Father aware of how he was giving him false hope just from his tone alone?

Damian let out a shuddery gasp that was muffled by the mattress.

A hand landed gently on top of his head, separated by the blanket. Father had big hands and if he stretched out his fingers, he could easily cover Damian’s stomach. Against his better judgement, Damian whined quietly at the touch.

“Habibi?”

Damian moved a little at the endearment -something so familiar and elegant and soothing in Father’s soft husky voice. Father was aware of his reaction —there was a smile in his voice as he repeated the affectionate nickname.

Damian cursed his own weakness as he pushed his blanket the slightest bit, twisting his body to peek up at Father.

Damian’s room faced the East and in the soft orange of the morning light, Father seemed like an angel —someone unreachable and should not be tainted by Damian’s filthy hands.

“Good morning, Damian.”

Father stroked his cheek, feather-light. His azure blue eyes -so unlike Damian’s green- were gentle. Damian leaned into the warmth of his touch, unable to help himself.

“Father.” There were too many things to say but his lips were glued together firmly, too afraid that something will shatter as soon as he opened his mouth.

Something like understanding appeared on Father’s face. Damian was not sure how Father had learnt to read him so well -better than even Grayson and Pennyworth-; Perhaps, he should be warier but right now, he could not bring himself to care. “Bad dream, Habibi?”

Damian nodded shakily, finally mustering up the strength to sit up, curling into Father’s side with his blanket still wrapped protectively around his shoulder. As natural as breathing, Father encircled him with one arm and Damian felt the tension in his body melted away like winter transitioning into spring. There was no embrace like Father’s; Even the warmest and softest blanket paled in comparison to the security Father offered, the reassurance in the sheer familiarity of Father’s sturdy body.

It scared him —how easily he could lose this.

_Tick-tock._

Damian was not sure if he could survive it with his whole soul intact. Perhaps, he could, had he not loved Father too much. He would not be able to replicate this embrace, would not be able to replace Father with another no matter how much he’d try.

The thoughts of losing this hurt —Damian could feel his throat closing, restricting his breathing. He burrowed himself further into Father’s embrace, letting his scent -like firewood and leather and starlight- surround him.

Father placed a kiss on top of his head and ran his calloused fingers -just like Damian’s own fingers, maybe more so- down Damian’s brown skin; His arms and wrists, his legs and lastly stomach. Only then did Father released a sigh of relief, finding no more wounds than the bruises he had from the last patrol.

Thoughts of how close the hidden weapon in his room had come to his body last night flashed in Damian’s head. Damian banished it. He was getting better. _He was._

Father tenderly pulled Damian into his laps, positioning his legs on both sides so that they were facing each other. Striking blue eyes stared right into Damian’s green as if he could see right into Damian’s core, as he rested his forehead on Damian’s. “Habibi, you know that I am so proud of you, right?”

Damian averted his eyes when he felt the tears coming back in a new wave even though Father had seen he cried before, had seen him at his most vulnerable more times than he preferred, because as much as he wanted to be rational -that Father would not punish him for his tears-, there was another part of him that was too prideful. It was a foolish side because he also wanted comfort and tears were a guarantee for that to happen. But another part of him, one that had been hurt and backstabbed, was fearful. Memories of fearing crying due to the potential death of dehydration played in the back of his mind.

_Tick-tock._

Damian drew himself closer to Father, smooshing his cheeks onto Father’s chest and his hands clenching on the cashmere turtleneck Father was wearing. Fingers ran through his mused hair. Damian wanted to tell Father to stop -his hair was gross from the cold sweat he woke up with- but at the same time, he was selfish.

“Do you want to talk about it, Damian?”

The nightmare.

Damian shook his head, still plastering himself to Father’s body.

Father hummed, fingers still in Damian’s hair. “That’s okay.”

 _No, it’s not,_ Damian thought but he didn’t say it out loud. He should not be so weak. Not in the face of a mere nightmare.

The fact hadn’t occurred to Father yet. He slid down his fingers to cup Damian’s face cautiously as if he were something precious, _beloved_.

It made Damian _sick._

 _“_ Damian?” There was a furrow in Father’s elegant brows, placed there by Damian himself. A strangled sob escaped Damian’s throat. Soon, he would push Damian away, tired of a burden like him, give up and abandon him.

 ~~Just like Mother did.~~

Father’s thumbs rubbed circles into his cheeks, attempting to ground him but soon Damian would lose even this when Father realised how _worthless_ he was and felt only disgust — _as he should be._ “Habibi? Hey, Damian, can you hear me?” Father forced a smile on his face, but it could not hide the worry in his eyes and Damian felt _worse_ because it was _his_ fault. How did Father not see it? Was it because Damian fooled him? Surely, the lauded greatest detective in the world could see through his lies and deceit, how Damian was just an impostor in a family of heroes, how his hands were still stained by innocent blood—

Father kissed his forehead. “What are you thinking about, Habibi? It’s not some nonsense, right?”

 _Nonsense. Oh._ Damian could feel the word expanding in his mind, pulling him into an abyss -could feel the air leaving his lungs in a rush. And it was _true —how could he bother Father with his nonsense?_ Damian could not believe his own selfishness. _How could he even dare to make anyone worry over someone like him?_ He should have stayed dead—

_Tick-tock._

_—_ should have done everyone the favour by killing himself, should have gone through with his passing thoughts; Each time he felt of the urge to press the blade deeper, of swallowing too many pills, of just _giving up —_ he felt bile rising, he should—

“Damian? Damian! Listen to me, Habibi, I love you, darling, is it something I said— don’t, stop, don’t hurt yourself, _please—!”_

Damian could taste blood in his mouth -he had bitten his lips- and suddenly he realised he was on the floor with Father hovering over him. His own fingernails buried into his arms, drawing blood - _oh,_ he had not remembered doing that.

Father was saying something, his mouth moving but there was no sound and Damian forgot how to read lips because the panic registered then. He hunched into himself, burning tears in his eyes and air trapped in his lungs, suffocating him. Sadness weighed down on him as if he was Atlas carrying the weight of the world, but Damian was no Atlas. He was just Damian. Poor, pathetic, useless Damian.

It was _too much,_ everything was too much, too loud, too _quiet._ He wanted to scream, to sob, to cry and to fight and to fall apart.

Father tried to hug him, mouth still moving soundlessly but Damian could _not_.

Mustering all his strength, Damian shoved Father away before retreating under the bed, harsh breaths filling the room.

(He had weapons attached to the underside of his bed. If anyone grabbed him now, they would lose a finger.)

From his point of view, Damian could not see Father’s face —perhaps he finally realised how fucked up Damian was, making contingency plans to contain him or send him back.

_Tick-tock._

Damian sobbed.

Father stood up slowly from where he was sitting on the carpet. It was a weary action, as though Damian might dart out and attacked him. Still, his voice (although Damian could not recognise the words) was soft, gentle, _reassuring._ Then he left.

A minute passed before Damian allowed himself to breathe and the sheer relief as air entered his lungs was almost staggering. Father’s leaving was exactly what he needed.

He stayed underneath the protective shell for a long while before he could crawl out and onto the bed, covering himself back with the blanket. Damian drew his knees into his body, hugging them tightly. He felt drained, physically, and emotionally. It was not a bad thing per se; Now that the worst had passed, he could see his thoughts for what they were —toxic.

Damian did not move from his position until there was a knock on his door.

“Come in, Father.” He fell short of the calm he’s trying to exude, his voice sounding raw and wet even to his own ears.

The door opened and Father appeared. He looked worried and uncertain and Damian felt a stab of guilt at the sight. Damian raised his arms, a silent plea to be lifted. Father humoured him, picking him up and carrying him in one arm easily.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be. It’s my fault. I’m sorry that I said your thoughts were unnecessary, okay? That won’t happen again.” Father’s voice was as gentle as it was before. He kissed Damian’s eyelids. “I love you.”

“Mn.” Damian viciously wiped away the tears welling up in his eyes with his hand. He kissed Father’s cheek. _I love you too._

“Do you want Baba instead now?”

Damian weighed his option —Baba sounded more appealing right now; He would feel better straight away, and he knew Father wanted to take care of him. He nodded. “Baba.”

Instantly, he could feel the tension seeping out of him. Damian was not quite yet in the little space, but he was close.

Fath-, no, it’s Baba now. Baba smiled down at him, kissing him on the temple. Damian liked it when Baba kissed him.

“Okay, we’re going to get you a bath first. Then, breakfast. What do you think?” Baba said.

Damian pouted —he didn’t want a bath. “Don’t wanna bath, Baba.”

Baba bopped him on the nose. “We don’t want to be smelly, do we, little one? Smelly people don’t get yoghurt.”

 _Yoghurt?_ Damian’s eyes widened. “Vanilla yoghurt?”

Baba chuckled, a pleasant tinkling sound. “If you like. There’s also strawberry. But you have to bath first.”

Damian nodded. “Okay!”

Baba let him cling onto him as the bathwater was drawn. Damian giggled in excitement as pink bubbles magically appeared in the water. It smelt like flowers.

Baba helped him out of his clothes before placing him in the tub. Damian grinned when he felt the warm water —he hated the cold. It reminded him of really really high mountains.

_~~Tick-tock.~~ _

“And here’s your ducky.” Something bright yellow was dangled in front of him.

Damian gasped. “Mr. Ducky! Where have you been?”

He loved Mr. Ducky. Mr. Ducky wasn’t afraid of water like his kitty, Alfred (Damian loved Alfred too, of course).

“He just got back from a holiday, remember?” Baba laughed. There were firm fingers massaging his head and Damian looked up.

“Don’t move your head too much, love. We don’t want the shampoo to get into your pretty eyes.”

Damian giggled. His eyes were not _pretty._ “Your eyes are pretty, Baba, not mine.”

There was a smile in Baba’s voice, like sunshine. “Your eyes are the prettiest, baby boy.”

Damian hummed a little song as Mr. Ducky swam down into the water.

“Did you sleep well, Habibi?”

Damian scrunched his nose at the question. Last night? “No, I woke up reaaaaaly early. It was very dark, Baba.”

Damian had forgotten to turn on the trusty nightlight that he got from Grayson. Waking up in the dark _wasn’t_ fun at all.

“Oh, why did you wake up?”

“I dunno —ah! I had a weird dream, Baba.”

“Bad weird?”

“Uh-huh!” Damian nodded distractedly —Mr. Ducky had a little accident with the wall. “There’s lot of fire, Baba. And it’s really noisy.”

Damian liked fire -it’s bright and pretty and warm- but not the ones in his dream. They looked hungry and angry —and Damian knew that’s a bad combination because he felt like that before and it’s _not_ nice. “I don’t like it there, Baba.”

“You don’t have to go there anymore, Habibi.”

Damian frowned. “But they said I’ll be going back there.”

“Who did?” Baba tipped his head back, rinsing off the nice smelling bubbles. Damian felt a little sad.

“The voices.” Damian didn’t like these voices either; They were mean and didn’t sound like Baba _at all_.

Baba moved to crouch down beside the tub, looking him in the eyes. “I won’t let them take you, okay? I promise.”

 _Promise_. Grayson said promises are important. And the most important promises are… “Pinky promise?”

Baba chuckled and held out a pinky finger. Damian locked his pinky with Baba’s before shaking them. He wagged his pointer finger in front of Baba before declaring, “No takeback, Baba. If you break your promise then your finger will be broken.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s get out, yeah? I think there’s pancake this morning.”

Damian’s eyes lit up. “Yoghurt _and_ pancake?”

“You still remember about yoghurt, huh?”

“No one forgets about yoghurt.” Damian pointed out.

“You’re right,” Baba drained the bathwater and wrapped a towel around Damian. “Up we go.”

Damian snuggled into Baba as he carried him to his bedroom’s closet. Baba took out a set of matching fluffy hoodie and shorts that Damian loved —it’s so soft and comfortable and it’s in mint green colour!

“You look cute, Habibi.”

Damian smiled bashfully. “The cutest?”

“Of course.”

Baba picked him up again, carrying him to Baba’s study room, just two rooms away from his bedroom. There were two trays placed on the desk and Damian shouted gleefully when he caught sight of the pancakes, “Blueberries!”

Damian tugged on Baba’s clothes insistently and as soon as his feet reached the floor, he raced to his seat -the one with a plush cushion on it. He curled up in the seat, waiting for Baba to sit down.

“Baba, open?” Damian handed him the sealed yoghurt cup.

Baba easily took the lid off before handing both plastic lid and cup to Damian’s grabby hands.

“Yum!” Damian exclaimed as he licked the lid clean before proceeding to eat the vanilla yoghurt.

Baba just smiled before helping him cut his pancakes up, even though Damian knew how to do it himself. He’s a big boy! Baba looked happy though so Damian would kindly allow it. He poured maple syrup onto the plate before digging in.

The pancake disappeared quickly.

“Is the pancake delicious?” Baba sounded amused.

“Mn!” Damian made appreciative noises —it was delicious!

“I am simply honoured, Master Damian,” Pennyworth said as he entered through the open door.

Damian swallowed what left in his mouth; Good children don’t talk with their mouths full. “Pennyworth! I miss you!”

“As do I you, Master Damian. I trust that you will behave well when Master Bruce is working?”

“Yeah!” Damian nodded. If he behaved, then he got candies!

“Then I will leave both of you now. God knows how many chores need to be done today.” Pennyworth stacked the bowls and trays with practised ease before walking out.

“Bye-bye, Pennyworth. Thank you!”

“You’re most welcome, Master Damian.”

The door closed.

Damian whined slightly when Baba wiped his face with a napkin —he wasn’t even messy. “You know where your toys are, right?”

“In that cabinet.” Damian pointed to the cabinet in the corner, medium-sized.

“Run along then, Habibi.”

Damian hummed as he took out his favourite toy -an Easy Bake Oven- and plugging it to the power source. Baba had it made especially for him, a -cus.. custorm? custer? oh yeah!- custom design. Baba had to work hard so Damian was going to make a delicious cookie for him.

Everyone likes cookies!

He preheated the oven and mix the ingredients together in the meantime. It wasn’t very hard. He had to stay away from a distance though when the cookie was being baked -Baba was worried he would get a burn. Damian didn’t want a burn. It hurt.

_~~Tick-tock.~~ _

After making the frosting for the cookie, there was only waiting left so he took out some A4 papers and crayons. He wanted to draw his animals -Titus first, Alfred, Batcow, Goliath and Jerry.

“What are you drawing, Habibi?”

“Titus!” He showed the half-drawn picture to Baba, grinning pridefully.

“Beautiful, honey.”

They both returned to their works. Damian took out his cookies and left them to cool. By the time he finished drawing Batcow, the cookie was cool enough to be decorated.

He drew the Bat symbol because Baba was Batman! Damian couldn’t tell anyone though, that’s a secret -a really big one!

Finally, a fully-decorated was presented to Baba when it was nearing lunch break —who cared about the difference between one or two hours?

Baba snapped a photo with his phone. “This is very sweet of you, Habibi. I don’t know what to say.”

Damian knew! Grayson taught him before. “Say thank you!”

Baba chuckled. “Thank you, love.” He took a big bite, “Yummy. Here, take half.”

Damian received it happily; More dessert for him.

Baba looked a little tired and bored with his work. A thought occurred to him when he glanced at the clock -both hands nearing number 12. He tugged on Baba, “Baba, can we play?”

“Play what, Habibi?”

“Adult game.”

Baba looked sharply at him, brows furrowing slightly. “Don’t you feel too little for that today, honey?”

Damian climbed into his laps -Baba let him- and pouted. “But Baba, I wanna make you feel good.”

Baba kissed his nose tenderly. “You know you don’t have to that, do you? There are other ways to feel good.”

Damian wriggled his nose. “But Baba -I wanna, _please?”_

Baba looked at the clock and back at him before making a decision. Damian knew he had won when Baba sighed, “Okay, but not here.”

Baba stood up and Damian automatically wrapped his legs around Baba’s waist, clinging onto him although Baba firmly supported him with one hand on his rear. Ten large strides later, they were in Baba’s bedroom.

Baba locked the door. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you say if you want me to stop?- Don’t give me that look, Habibi.”

Damian wrinkled his nose. “Cupcake.”

Baba placed a kiss -like the one you see at weddings- square on his lips. “Good boy,” he whispered right beside Damian’s ear.

Damian shivered.

Baba placed him on the bed. Damian watched closely as Baba undressed -it was far from the first time but he still felt his face heat up as more and skin was exposed. He fidgeted with his hoodie, he wanted to take it off now but Baba would want to do it himself.

True to his expectation, Baba crawled over to him, settling between his spread legs. A big hand snaked up his hoodie and Damian whined at the touch. Soon, his hoodie was peeled off him, his chest exposed. Baba’s fingers ran up and down his abdomen in almost worshipping caresses. A finger flicked at his sensitive nipple, which instantly hardened.

He bit down on his lower lips.

“Now, now, none of that, love.” Baba said, his other hand coming up to gently pry his lips open. “What did we agree before, hmm?”

Damian blushed. “I shouldn’t try to hold back -because Baba likes it.”

Baba smiled. “That’s my good boy.” He pressed another kiss onto Damian’s open mouth, tongue filling up Damian’s small cave easily, dragging out each delicate moan and groan.

Baba pulled back when Damian panted slightly, smiled down at him. “Better.”

Baba slid down his hands down to peel off his shorts and flung it somewhere in the room, revealing Damian’s pussy. A finger prodded at his entrance, inserting itself easily. A squelch resounded as the finger buried itself deeper into the slick. Damian moaned.

“So wet for me already, baby?”

Damian didn’t answer because the next thing he knew was another finger inserted into his entrance, scissoring him open and stretching his walls. Baba’s thumb rubbed into his clit, bringing indescribable pleasure to Damian’s whole being.

At the fourth thrust of Baba’s fingers, Damian came with a shout, shuddering violently. Baba didn’t stop there; His thrusts and stretching became deeper, wider, spreading the spasming wall wider.

“Ba-Ah!-ba, mn, Baba, Ah!- _please.”_

Baba slowed down mercifully. “You need to say it out, Habibi. I cannot read minds.”

Damian threw him an aggrieved look, his cheeks burning steadily. “Please put in in me, Baba.”

Baba still wanted to tease him, “Put what in where?”

Damian covered his face. “ _Please put your cock in my pussy, Baba.”_

Father stopped stretching him, instead just holding it happen. A moment later, Damian felt Baba’s hot erection pressing against his opening, teasing him again.

Damian removed his arm from his eyes to complain. “ _Baba-”_

His exclaim extended into a moan as Baba pushed in. It felt _good_ and Damian just _knew_ that only the head was in. Baba’s hands gripped his hips, a cool sensation against his overheated skin. He could hear Baba groaning as he buried himself further, inch by inch. He wondered if Baba was feeling the same euphoria Damian was. Most likely yes.

After what seemed like forever, Baba managed to bury himself to the hilt in Damian’s pussy. Damian could even feel his balls pressing against his rear. Damian felt so _full_. He opened his eyes, looking back at Baba who was drawing quick deep breaths. Baba smiled at him, stroking his stomach that had a bulge from Baba’s size alone.

He squirmed after a minute. “Baba, _move please.”_

Baba pinned his hips down, stilling him. “Only because you asked nicely,” he lied. But Damian didn’t call him out on it because a second later Baba’s hips started to move -shallow and rapid.

Damian could not even clench the sheets to ground himself -his eyes rolled up from the sheer pleasure bestowed by the friction. He moaned and whimpered with each thrust that became more forceful by the second. His toes curled uncontrollably.

“ _So good for me, baby.”_ A kiss was pressed onto Damian’s mouth, tongue sucking his and teeth sinking into his lips. Damian groaned.

Baba began to fuck into him harder as if he was trying to carve out a place for himself inside Damian’s pussy -not a very bad idea if one asked Damian right now. The loud obscene squelch of Baba’s cock pistoning in and out of his pussy filled the room. Damian trembled.

A particularly forceful thrust had Damian shrieking, coming even harder than he had the first time. Evidently, the pulsing walls of his pussy were too much for Baba because he came two deep thrusts later with a hoarse groan, seed spilling deep into Damian.

They both panted, coming down from the high slowly. Baba moved to pull himself out but Damian stopped him, his trembling legs wrapping themselves around Baba’s waist again. “Baba, no.”

Baba blinked. “No?”

Damian sat up, arms encircling Baba’s neck so he could right into his eyes. “Stay. Naptime. Cuddles.”

“We need to get cleaned up, Habibi.”

“After.” Damian deflated a little. “Please?”

Damian won when Baba sighed, “Fine, I can never seem to deny you, Habibi.”

Damian giggled. He was happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not an ageplayer myself so you will forgive me for any inaccuracy. 
> 
> If you want to learn more about ageplay, little space, and more, here a link to get you started: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbuwXelGVf0 
> 
> As usual, kudos+comments=happy author :)  
> Shameless Twitter plug: @seisu2_2


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